


we should do this at home instead with a condom in a bed

by harperuth



Series: i keep shit safe so i'm never sorry [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Multi, POV Outsider, Post-War, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, there is a surprise pairing at the end, ultra magnus is very tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24095233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: Ultra Magnus pinched his nasal ridge and sighed, “The hallways are also considered a public area. As previously stated, please refrain from interfacing in public areas. As also previously stated, you have a perfectly serviceable hab. Re. Direct.”- - -Or, five times Ultra Magnus caught Hot Rod and Deadlock interfacing in places they shouldn't.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Hot Rod, Drift | Deadlock/Hot Rod/Grimlock, Ultra Magnus & Arcee
Series: i keep shit safe so i'm never sorry [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626400
Comments: 22
Kudos: 121





	we should do this at home instead with a condom in a bed

**Author's Note:**

> i'm continually blown away by the response to this series, so thank you ♥
> 
> title is, as always, from 'stay safe' by tiny meat gang

**1.**

The corridors of the Ark were quiet as Ultra Magnus worked his way through to the gamma section. 

Paint scuffs and tire tracks adorned the walls and floor, and he set a reminder ping to order them a cleaning. Not that there was anyone around to carry that out. He frowned, something Arcee liked to tell him made no marked difference on his face plate, and rerouted the ping to his internal systems. 

Were there even enough people here to have someone relegated to the gamma section of the ship cum base?

He paused at the archway that marked the sector. Dialing up his audials, Ultra Magnus thought he caught a slight scuffling. He continued down the hall, listlessly dismissing the memory file of the last time a raccoon had gotten caught in the Ark’s wiring. He also dismissed the file of the owl. And the one of Skywarp. 

Ultra Magnus stopped and dialed up his audials again, the scuffling louder now that he was further along in the halls. He generated a service request for checking the hull over for wildlife infiltration points and pinged it to the general Ark board. That was something he wasn't able to do himself at least. 

Which meant it was likely to not be completed. 

The scuffling led him to a slightly dented supply closet door. He generated another internal reminder to fix that and sent his override to the door lock. Barring the locking codes of Prime (unlikely) or Prowl (off-world) it would unlock anything in the Ark. He ex-vented when the lock clicked but did not slide open, whining as the dented door attempted to follow the straight track.

Ultra Magnus rerouted the “Fix Door” ping to higher up his internal list and pushed the door open manually.

The scuffling resolved itself very quickly into running fans, whimpers, metal hitting metal, and Deadlock and Hot Rod interfacing before him.

Ultra Magnus offlined his optics, but not before his processor generated a visual memory file. He cursed internally, trying to delete it, but the file stubbornly persisted, Deadlock snarling at him with Hot Rod’s spoiler held between his teeth, Hot Rod’s optics flaring in surprise and Pits below he was not examining this _any longer_.

“I know for a fact that you two have a perfectly serviceable hab,” Ultra Magnus announced, optics still offline and ignoring the sounds that _continued to pervade the room_ , “Please redirect your activities _there_.”

He whirled around, hissing an ex-vent when he hit the door frame. He groped for the edge and directed himself through it, grabbing at the door and sliding it shut as best was able.

“Don’t you dare stop,” He heard Hot Rod gasp before he onlined his optics in the hallway and fled back to safer portions of the ship.

He dismissed the noise complaint from the Ark boards.

**2.**

“Hey Mags,” Arcee leaned up against the doorway of his office, “Need you to open a door for me.”

“My designation is Ultra Magnus,” He considered the datapads on the desk before him, Prowl’s desk, and sighed. He stood and met Arcee at the door, “But I will help.”

“Thanks Mags,” Arcee reached up and patted his elbow joint, smirk firmly fixed on her face plate, “Appreciated.”

“Which door?” Ultra Magnus decided to ignore any further mangling of his designation. Arcee was not easily swayed by any means.

“Gym,” She hummed and set off down the hall in that direction, “I was supposed to meet Grimlock to spar, but the door’s locked. I would like it to be unlocked. Hence, you.”

“I see,” Ultra Magnus followed.

“Plus,” Arcee slowed to fall in next to him, “I wanted to see you. You’ve been shut up in that office all day everyday and we’ve been missing you.”

“I—” Ultra Magnus wasn’t sure what to say in response.

“War’s over, you know,” Arcee’s optics managed to cut to the strut even from a sidelong glance, “You can get out of the office.”

“I’m aware,” Ultra Magnus knew his voice was tight, but he was unsure of how to stop it, “There is still work to be done, peace notwithstanding, and Prowl is off-world.”

“ _Prowl_ saw his first opportunity for a vacation in his life and jumped on it,” Arcee countered, “You should take notes.”

“I keep plenty of notes,” Ultra Magnus said and Arcee stumbled as she laughed.

“That’s what I mean,” She said, still grinning, and Ultra Magnus was pleased. Arcee didn’t laugh often enough, always far too serious, “I miss that when you’re stuck up in your office all the time.”

Ultra Magnus didn’t answer, spark twisting in its cycling. There was work to be done. The entire army couldn’t be caught goofing off and unawares. He had to—

“Alright, I can see you overclocking from here,” Arcee patted his elbow joint again, “Just think about going for a drive next time you’re off-shift.”

“I suppose,” Ultra Magnus acquiesced. The area around the Ark was more than likely due an updated patrol circuit. Primus only knew the state of the paths and roads themselves. He generated an internal request to check them.

Arcee took a few quick strides ahead of him to rattle the door to the gym as they reached it, “See? I didn’t even know the common area doors _locked._ ”

“Emergency measures,” Magnus frowned, sending his emergency override to the door lock.

He immediately regretted the decision.

Once again his processor generated a visual memory file before he could offline his optics. Grimlock laid on his side in the middle of the sparring floor, Hot Rod straddling one thigh and evidently spiking him. Deadlock was half hidden behind Grimlock, holding his opposite thigh up and away, and servo—

Ultra Magnus threw the memory file into a purge cache.

“Seriously?” Arcee said next to him, “I had plans with him.”

“Oh Primus,” Hot Rod sounded pained. A small part of Ultra Magnus thought it served him right. 

“Finders keepers,” Deadlock taunted, “Wait your turn.”

“Please refrain from interfacing in public areas,” Ultra Magnus said faintly. He didn’t expect them to listen to him, “I’m leaving. Arcee?”

“Eh,” Arcee’s voice had that bent to it that even Ultra Magnus had learned to fear, “I’ll stay.”

“Cee,” Hot Rod whined, “Seriously?”

“It’s what you deserve,” Arcee said, “Cutting into my sparring time like this.”

“By all means,” Deadlock said and Grimlock made a noise that Ultra Magnus hoped to never hear again.

“She’s gonna heckle,” Hot Rod grumbled and Arcee barked a sharp laugh.

Ultra Magnus onlined his optics as soon as he was turned away and retreated back to his office.

**3.**

Ultra Magnus looked up from his datapad at the footsteps that clattered past the open door. 

He listened further, but the hall was silent. He ducked back down to count the rolls of wire on the bottom shelf of the rack. The Ark hadn’t had an inventory update in _quartex_ , and he had the time. 

He marked the amount on his datapad, as well as their location and general state of maintenance before moving on to the next shelf. The Ark continued to hum quietly around him. Ultra Magnus sent a ping to Teletraan-1, who returned with an all clear.

He frowned. 

Even now that the Decepticons had continued to hold their end of the peace bargain, it seemed unlikely that everything was so quiet. Ultra Magnus didn’t trust the human law making entities, no matter how happy the Prime was to. And that was nothing to say about any number of extraterrestrial entities that were less than pleased with the remains of the Cybertronian population.

He pinged Teletraan-1 again. All clear.

Ultra Magnus proceeded with his inventory. This particular storage closet wasn’t organized in the most logical of manners, so he had several long kliks of rearranging to keep his servos and processor busy.

There was a scuffle of footsteps outside. 

Ultra Magnus ignored them, trying to figure out who thought leaving water soluble solvent refills on the bottom shelf of a horridly wet planet was a good idea. It took several long kliks of moving different items around to find them a better placement. 

The footsteps upgraded themselves to muttered voices, speaking too softly for Magnus to make out the words. He tried to ignore them, twisting around to see where the Teletraan friendly data slugs went, when the noises coalesced into the sound of a frame hitting the hull wall. 

Ultra Magnus sighed and pinched his nasal ridge. He had no desire to break up a fight at this moment. For a klik he considered ignoring it.

He subspaced his datapad and picked his way through items to the hall. The sounds had gone back down to faint scuffling and muffled voices, but he was already on the way. He reconsidered his stance on breaking up fights as he turned the corner and a moan permeated the hall.

A fight would have been preferable.

Hot Rod’s optics were nearly white as they looked up and caught sight of him. Magnus didn’t bother offlining his optics this time, Deadlock’s head blocked his view of anything incriminating, on his knees in front of Hot Rod.

Ultra Magnus pinched his nasal ridge and sighed, “The hallways are also considered a public area. As previously stated, please refrain from interfacing in public areas. As _also_ previously stated, you have a perfectly serviceable hab. Re. Direct.”

He didn’t bother to stick around and see if they moved. He dialled his audials down and went back to inventory.

**4.**

“Magnus!” Springer voice was jovial as he, Arcee, and Hot Rod spilled into his— Prowl’s office.

“So close,” Ultra Magnus said dryly, while the three of them made themselves comfortable in chairs, Springer, Hot Rod, and against the wall, Arcee, “It’s Ultra Magnus.”

They all spoke at once.

“Magnus,” from Springer.

“Mags,” from Arcee.

“Big M,” from Hot Rod.

The other two looked at him and Hot Rod threw his servos up in the air. Ultra Magnus refrained from rolling his optics, “Did you all have a purpose here?”

“To see you,” Hot Rod grinned, his tone indicating that this should have been obvious.

“Duh,” Arcee said, as if to drive the point home.

“I see,” Ultra Magnus said, and very carefully did not smile.

“You never come play anymore,” Hot Rod whined, leaning forward in his chair and wincing.

Arcee just gave him a _look_. Springer nodded, “You are unusually locked away these days.”

“There’s work to be done,” Ultra Magnus said, and picked up a datapad, trying to ignore them.

“There can’t be that much work,” Hot Rod pouted, throwing himself back in the chair and wincing again, “We saw you way more when we were all fighting, and that was a lot of work.”

“Are you alright?” Ultra Magnus peered at Hot Rod over the top of his datapad. Hot Rod’s face pinked with energon.

“I’m fine,” He shifted in his seat and winced again.

“Did you finally let Deadlock stick it up your aft?” Arcee deadpanned.

“Um—” Hot Rod clamped his mouth shut and Arcee stood up off the wall.

“You did _not_ ,” She hissed, cuffing Hot Rod on the back of the helm, “ _Hot Rod_.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Hot Rod hissed.

“Please do,” Ultra Magnus groaned.

Springer laughed.

“I can’t believe you,” Arcee hit him again, “You shameless piece of slag.”

“Leave Slag out of this,” Hot Rod mumbled. Springer kept laughing. Arcee glared at Hot Rod, then settled back against the wall.

“Did you hear about the stupid stunt Bee pulled?” She finally said, and Hot Rod jumped on the subject change.

Ultra Magnus let their gossip, stories, and laughter wash over him for several joor as he worked. Hot Rod and Springer drifted out eventually, but Arcee and her piercing gaze stayed. Ultra Magnus paused in his work to raise an optical ridge at her.

“Come on a drive with me tomorrow,” She lifted a servo before he could speak, “Not patrol, not grounds maintenance. Just a drive.”

“I will…” Ultra Magnus stared at the datapad currently in her servos, “I will consider it.”

Arcee sighed, “Alright.”

Ultra Magnus worked another joor longer before powering the office down for the night. He took a few datapads with him as he took the leisurely route to his hab. He felt settled, and wondered if for once he might get some satisfying recharge.

Perhaps he would take Arcee up on her offer.

He was nearly on top of them when he noticed. Hot Rod and Deadlock were leaning against the open doorway of their hab, Hot Rod wrapped around Deadlock and held off the ground. He couldn’t see anything thankfully, but there was no doubt as to what they were doing.

“Move,” Ultra Magnus stopped and crossed his arms, “You are a mechanometer from the correct place to be engaging in interfacing activities. Please proceed _there_.” 

“Hold your breath and he won’t see us,” Hot Rod groused, “You are so full of shit.”

“Frag off,” Deadlock panted, “It almost worked.”

“ _Move_ ,” Ultra Magnus growled, any iota of good mood evaporated, “Into your hab and shut the door.”

“Spoilsport,” Deadlock muttered and Ultra Magnus revved his engine, “Fuck, fine, we’re moving.”

Hot Rod tucked his face into Deadlock’s neck as they wobbled away from the doorway. The door slid shit behind them.

Ultra Magnus exvented and turned around, heading back to the office.

**5.**

“Well,” Ratchet said, disconnecting the diagnostic pad, “Your systems are all on the level, if a bit overworked.”

“I’m sensing there’s no ‘but’ in this case,” Ultra Magnus exvented, standing up straight.

“I don’t know why you’re recharging less,” Ratchet frowned, “My best guess at this point is it’s a psychosomatic response. Everyone is reacting to peace time differently. This could be your processor’s way of sorting through millennia of forced lack of recharge or interrupted recharge cycles.”

“Thank you,” Ultra Magnus said stiffly.

“Take a break,” Ratchet leveled him with an even stare, “Try recharging at different times of day. Could just as easily be the day-night cycle of this planet throwing you out of whack.”

“I—” Ultra Magnus cycled his intake, “Understood.”

“Don’t make me make it an order,” Ratchet said.

“Of course,” Ultra Magnus made his way out of the medbay, “Again, thank you.”

“Try to get laid! That might resent your systems!” Ratchet yelled behind him but Ultra Magnus was already out the door. He wandered the halls of the Ark. It was late, well into gamma shift. He hadn’t expected Ratchet to even be present in the medbay, just wanted to see if he could find any sleep aids.

The Ark was quiet, even the ever present hum of Teletraan-1’s security systems somehow dialed down. Ultra Magnus didn’t consciously pick a direction as he wandered, just let his frame move. It was nice. He’d been sitting behind a desk a lot.

He paused in the doorway of the general recreation area. The small television set was on, but it displayed only static. It was the only illumination in the room, backlighting Deadlock where his chassis up was visible over the back of the couch. His helm was thrown back as he moved in obvious rhythm. 

Ultra Magnus didn’t say anything as he watched. Deadlock was, objectively, a beautiful mech, if not dangerous in that beauty. A comm pinged his suite.

“ **Ultra Magnus.** ”

Ultra Magnus was too tired to think beyond, “ **Deadlock.** ”

“ **No lecture this time?** ”

“ **I haven’t lectured either of you, just reminded** ,” Ultra Magnus’s optics shifted to the fuzzed television, “ **I assume Hot Rod is on that couch.** ”

“ **He is** ,” Deadlock’s frame continued to move, “ **Are you not even a little interested?** ”

Ultra Magnus pulled up a memory file of Hot Rod, barely out of the Forge, optics onlining and cycling for the first time, “ **Rather hard to be after that.** ”

“ **He was so** **_cute_** ,” Deadlock turned his helm and caught Ultra Magnus’s optics, gratitude in his smile.

“ **Keep it quiet** ,” Ultra Magnus sent, and pushed up straight from the doorway.

“What’re you smilin’ at?” Hot Rod’s voice drifted through the room.

“You,” Deadlock said, and leaned down, disappearing from Ultra Magnus’s sight.

Ultra Magnus went back to the halls of the Ark.

**+1.**

A noise complaint.

Submitted by _Hot Rod_.

“I don’t know what it is, but it sounds big and I’m not qualified to deal with big,” Hot Rod’s voice had raced through his glyphs on the message, “Also, I’m still technically still not allowed on duty cycles and Deadlock won’t let me go check it out anyway so I just wanted to let you know. We’re gonna go out for a drive, thanks Mags!”

Ultra Magnus located the area of the Ark in question and boggled at how any Earth creature had made its way this deep into the structure. They generally only got a few mechanometers in from the hull where it was warm and nested. But the sounds Hot Rod had indicated were there and did indeed sound...big.

Ultra Magnus followed them down to a...utility closet.

He had a horrible feeling, but he sent his override code to the door lock regardless. It slid open to reveal _Megatron_ clutching at a shelf while Starscream drove his hips forward into him. Ultra Magnus made optic contact with Megatron and neither of them moved for a long nanoklik.

Starscream made a rude noise and peered over Megatron’s shoulder, “Can we help you?”

Megatron made a wounded noise. Starscream yelped and smacked him, “ _Ouch_. You could wait for my spike to be _out of you_ before closing your panel. Bastard.”

“Starscream,” Megatron ground out, “Shut up.”

“You shut up,” Starscream muttered, before glaring at Ultra Magnus, “Did you need something?”

“Does _no one_ care about common decency anymore?” Ultra Magnus’s processor was slowly dumping all his logic reasoning. He couldn’t seem to stop it, “Are we as a species just an interface rabid collection of _idiots_?”

Starscream looked utterly delighted, “Probably. Is that a problem?”

“Is that—” Ultra Magnus floundered for a moment, “Is that a problem? Are you—? Of course you’re serious. Of course it’s a _problem_ , no one seems to care on iota that our best strategists are off world! No one seems to care that the Ark is horribly defenced, as evidenced by _your presence here_ —”

“We do have clearance from Prime,” Megatron muttered.

“No one seems to care that the governing bodies of the humans exceed at making their proceedings difficult and obtuse at every turn and nearly impossible to predict—”

“I have been saying that for _years_ ,” Starscream smiled a little dreamily at him.

“And no one seems to care that— Well they don’t— You’re in a _utility closet_.” Ultra Magnus wound down and his logic reasoning didn’t seem any closer to coming back online.

“I’m well aware,” Megatron still sounded slightly pained, “And we will _never_ be doing so again.”

“Spoilsport,” Starscream muttered at Megatron, then smiled up at Ultra Magnus again, “Did you want to join us?”

“For Primus’ sake, _Starscream_ ,” Megatron groaned and pinched his nasal ridge.

“What?” Starscream’s optics dropped down Ultra Magnus’s frame, “He’s hot.”

“I’m not arguing,” Megatron muttered and Ultra Magnus felt his face flush, “Can we just— Can we please go back to our room?”

“Sure.”

“What?” Megatron’s jaw dropped.

“What?” Starscream brightened.

What? Ultra Magnus started when he realized he had _agreed_. But, “Sure. Yes. Your room? Let’s go.”

He turned and started walking. There was a slight scuffle behind him.

“ _Starscream_ ,” Megatron hissed.

“I honestly didn’t think I would get this far,” Starscream sounded absolutely delighted.

**+2.**

“I’m sorry,” Ultra Magnus said, logic processing onlining in the wake of his fading overload, “That was completely unprofessional.”

Megatron groaned, his face mashed into Ultra Magnus’s axillary vent, the rest of him a warm, heavy weight against his side, “That’s one word for it.”

Starscream hummed, draping himself over Ultra Magnus’s other side, “ _Please_ comm us the next time you want to be...unprofessional.”

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me about robots on twitter [@floralpunkcfb](https://twitter.com/floralpunkcfb)


End file.
